


You're Really Smart

by trashmovthtoziers



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Homework, Idiots in Love, Light-Hearted, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Multi, Richie Tozier is Smart as Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmovthtoziers/pseuds/trashmovthtoziers
Summary: When Eddie fails his math midterm, he thinks his whole life is over. He seeks Richie, who aced his midterm with little-to-no effort, for some help. School comes easy to Richie, and it infuriates Eddie, but he comes to realize that it isn't so bad having Richie around to help.





	You're Really Smart

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this story on my google drive for like AGES, but i've finally decided to finish it. i hope you like it because it took me like 5ever to write and i just hope that it makes you feel gud inside :)

**EDDIE KASPBRAK** stared at it. He'd stared at it until his vision blurred, until he simply couldn't stare anymore. After several consecutive seconds, he blinked — once, twice, thrice — and rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, hard, until little stars blossomed each time he closed his eyes, but nothing at all could replace what he had seen. It stared back at _him_ , too, unchanging and unyielding as it chided him — the freaking fabulous '39%' that had been scratched across the front side of his Algebra midterm.

Ms. Yoakam had folded the failed midterm when she had handed it back to him, an indifferent look on her face. And, as _every_ _single_ _student_ that ever lived knows: folded tests means that they, or, at least _someone_ , failed. Eddie had unfolded the returned test the second that it had landed on his desk, worried yet interested in what he had gotten, but had immediately regretted doing so with so much haste when he read the score across the front. Holy... freaking... shit…

Eddie breathed in and out, fighting the sudden urge to reach into his backpack and pull out his inhaler. He reminded himself that he didn't actually _have_ asthma — that his mother had planted the fanciful (at least to her) notion inside of his head when he was younger and much more malleable than he was now. Somehow, someway, Eddie was able to control his breathing. Some of the usual color returned to his cheeks. He still clutched the failed midterm in his hands, the remembrance of his inferior mark still fresh in his mind.

He had predicted this after not-so-many hours of calculation— the inevitable downfall of himself, or, rather, his whole goddamned _school_ _career_. And what was due to result in this downfall was rather catastrophic— Eddie knew it before it even happened.

He knew that his mother would _kill_ him.

Eddie was somehow struck (tormented, more like) with the notion that if Richie was the little voice inside of his head (simply imagining such thing terrified Eddie, for having Richie- _freaking_ -Tozier as an all-knowing conscious sounded like complete and absolute hell), he would describe the what Mrs. Kaspbrak would do when she found out what Eddie got on his Algebra midterm as 'flipping her tits' or something equally lewd.

"Eds?" _And..._ speak of the devil. Without so much as an invitation, Richie Tozier leaned forward in his peeling-and-heavily-graffitied wooden desk. At the start of the school term, Ms. Yoakam had seated Richie directly behind Eddie for whatever reason (presumably his height). She seemed to regret having done so as the days passed. Though, sparking much confusion, she hadn’t moved either of them away from each other.

Eddie turned around in his chair, stoic-faced. "What is it, Richie?"

"What did you get?" Richie indicated the midterm that Eddie still had clutched in his hands.

Eddie blinked, and, for the first time in a while, he felt conflicted on whether or not he should tell Richie the truth. Richie was, after all, one of his best friends. And Eddie knew that Richie wouldn’t make fun of him for what he made on the midterm, especially if he knew what Eddie’s score actually meant for him. Despite it all, however, he found himself sharply retorting, "What I got is _none_ of your business, Richie Tozier."

He found it difficult to tell Richie what his real score was because he couldn’t find it in himself to actually articulate it aloud. He was scared of speaking his score aloud in risk that it would actually, completely sink in— that it would suddenly become true. And if that were so, his mother’s inevitable reaction would become more and more imminent. If he failed this class, everything would turn to shit.

"What's with the full names, Eddie Kaspbrak? I thought we were past that. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were practically in diapers." His forehead was crinkled, a frown etched there, but he didn’t express the frown within his words. It was left plainly unattended to. “You don’t have to tell me what your grade is if you don’t want to. I mean, I get it if you don’t.”

Without thinking, Eddie whisper-shouted, “How could you possibly ‘get it’? You’re effortlessly _amazing_ at this kind of stuff! What did _you_ even get on _your_ midterm, anyway?”

He must’ve hit his head in his sleep or something, his question was that batshit. _Gosh_ , he already knew _good_ and _freaking_ well that Richie had done much better than him on this test. Richie was probably one of the smartest people in Algebra III.

“Um… Well…” Richie hesitated. He blinked a few times, then answered almost inaudibly, “96%”

“Jesus- _freaking_ -Christ…” Eddie grumbled. He turned around in his chair to face to front of the classroom once more, irritated. He had known _in advance_ that Richie had done better than him. If he already knew so, then why did this revelation feel so _changing_? Perhaps, it was the exceptionally vast range in between the two scores— Richie’s _A_ to Eddie’s blatant _F_.

The two fell into silence for the first time in a while. That is, before Richie abandoned all heed for emotions of any variety. It wasn’t that surprising since he _was_ Richie Tozier, and Richie Tozier had a _horrible_ brain-to-mouth filter. Horrible. “Eds, won’t you _please_ tell me what you got? I mean, we’re best friends. Best friends tell each other stuff, right? You can tell me what you made on your measly math midterm. I mean, this stupid thing accounts to absolutely nothing in the long run…”

“Nothing? Richie, don’t you understand? Since I failed this test—”

“Wait… You failed it?” Richie asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Uh, yeah… I did.” Eddie hated the fact that he had admitted it this way, but swallowed his doubts and delved on with his plight, “Anyway, since I failed this test, I’ll probably fail this class. That means that I won’t advance into Pre-Calc with you. That means that I’ll fall back in the math standards and I’ll have to spend another freaking semester taking math so that I can make it into a four-year college when all I really want to do is drop this stupid, useless subject which I suck at!”

"Jesus, Eddie…” Richie waited a _second_ too long before he tried to continue. This second passed like normal, but Eddie had had enough.

“God- _freaking_ -dammit, you dickbag! Just because you're wicked good at math doesn't mean you have to look all condescending and disappointed! I know for sure that that's almost the same way that my mother will react to this whole thing, except that she'll have a total frigging fit over it and I'll be grounded for the rest of my life! And I'm sure that when she finds out she'll, to quote you at one point in time, 'totally flip her tits' over my freaking horrible, stupidly, stupid poor score!" In an impeccable show of dramatics, he stood from his chair, rammed his midterm into his backpack, mumbled to Ms. Yoakam something-or-other about bathrooms, and fled from the classroom in an impressive haste.

Richie sighed.

* * *

After Ms. Yoakam dismissed the class, Richie rushed out of the classroom and searched of an all-knowing Ben. He found him with relative ease, to his utter surprise, for the hallways were always crowded and finding certain people was usually nearly impossible. He thought, _The universe must finally be favoring me... even after the shit I pulled in math class. I shouldn’t have pressed him._ Richie had asked Ben if he had seen Eddie recently, for he decided that he had allowed Eddie an adequate amount of time to settle down. He knew that Eddie needed this additional time to cool off, for they had had enough fights in the past for him to know that. Someone as hot-headed— as short-tempered— as Eddie Kaspbrak needed a few minutes to unwind.

Ben had told Richie that he hadn't seen Eddie, but he _did_ suggest that if Eddie were to be anywhere, he would be either in the music room (which was always vacant around this time of day) or the library. Richie offered a 'thank-you' as he went off to check the music room first. With his luck, it was completely empty. He ran to the library, his sneakers thudding against the linoleum, his curls bouncing. He had hoped to find Eddie to tell him that he was sorry for pressing him. He should’ve just let things be, but he was Richie Tozier and his curiosity always got the better of him.

Richie found Eddie in the library, math textbook in hand.

He walked toward Eddie slowly in risk of another outburst. "Who knew free period was for studying? For homework? I thought it was for vending machine runs? For music room escapades with the others?"

Eddie lifted his head, eyes narrowing, "Of course you wouldn't. You don't study, yet you still manage perfect grades. Everything's _easy_ for you."

Richie immediately knew that he had said the wrong thing. Internally, he chided himself as he took the seat across from Eddie and set his backpack on the floor. “I don’t _not_ study,” he admitted, straightening his glasses. “When I really need help, I study at home.” His voice rose as he continued, “I mean, I’ve got a reputation to keep up, yanno? I wouldn’t be caught dead in here.”

“What reputation? Smoking behind the school? ‘The Stoner/Class-Clown’ that everyone thinks you are?”

Richie looked affronted. Through and through, he sounded hurt, “I’m not a stoner! What the _hell_ , Eddie? Below the belt!”

A flash of remorse— genuine guilt. Eddie felt terrible for what he said. He knew _good_ and _well_ that Richie wasn’t a stoner. “Listen, Rich. I’m _really_ sorry… I was out of line.”

Richie waved it off, “Nah… It’s all right. I’m sorry for being a snotty, know-it-all in math class.” Once again, he straightened his glasses, satisfying one of his many nervous ticks. After a few seconds, however, a smirk blossomed on his freckled face, “Tit for tat… right?”

Eddie nodded, but then said, “ _I’ll_ forgive you on one condition…”

Richie blinked, “Shouldn’t _I_ be able to 'forgive _you_ on one condition’? I thought we were even! Tit for tat!”

“Well, you forgive me for calling you a stoner… right?”

Richie sighed, defeated, “ _Yeah, yeah._ I forgive you. Now, what’s your condition?”

“If you help me pass Algebra, I’ll forgive you.”

“Really?” Richie asked, disbelieving. “That’s it?”

Eddie nodded.

“I was gonna help you, anyway!”

A smirk made its way on Eddie’s face, “Well, in that case, I should’ve come up with a better condit-”

“Wait, no! I take that back! I was never gonna help you but your stupid condition— damn you, condition— made me do it! It forced me! _You_ forced me, you wretched little man!”

"Jeezum-crow, _shut up_... I’m just glad that you decided to help.”

"You know, Eds," Richie pointed out, never known to stay on the same topic for long. "You talk British normally, save for your occasional _Jeezum-crow_ , that is. I mean, your words are so thought-out. Sometimes, I think you spend too much time with Stan."

"God really must love you, Richie. I mean, you pass everything without _really_ trying. You must have been pious in your past life."

“Well, I’m definitely not pious in _this_ life…” Richie pointed out truthfully.

“That’s for sure,” Eddie agreed, smiling slightly.

"And I may have little-to-no common sense, but that doesn’t mean that I’m stupid,” Richie added.

Eddie rolled his eyes, " _Yeah, yeah._.. whatever, dumbass."

Richie flipped him the bird, smiling nonetheless. The librarian, a heartless old woman with shining half-moon spectacles, had seen this from across the library. Her face promptly turned into the shade of a blueberry, all plump and round. "MISTER TOZIER!" she screeched shrilly, causing almost everyone in the library to look in her direction before their eyes flitted over to Richie, who had turned red in the face, his middle fingers still raised at Eddie. He lowered them slowly.

A cheerleader with particularly golden hair (who regularly does charity work, Eddie knows because she _never_ stops talking about it) chuckled slightly behind her hand.

Richie shot out of his chair, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and bolted out of the door with nothing more than a "I'll see you at lunch!" to Eddie.

* * *

A few minutes before his free-period ended, Eddie was at his locker, putting his books neatly away. The halls were almost entirely devoid of students, save for a few seniors sticking campaign posters onto the walls. The nearly-blindingly neon posters made Eddie’s head hurt, so he decided instead to focus on tidying his locker before free-period ended. His mind flitted back to his mother and her imminent reaction to his midterm score whenever it strayed even the slightest. He wondered dully which punishment would be less painful; soap in his mouth or hot sauce on his tongue, for both were his punishments for misbehaving (at least, they were when he was younger).

" _Eddie_!"

Hot sauce, he decided.

Eddie didn’t need to turn around to face the source of that noise, already knowing good and well that it was Richie Tozier who had called. Who else could it be? His other five friends? Bill and Stan were suffering in Civics class at the moment, and Ben, Bev, and Mike were probably down in the music room, savouring the last few minutes of free-period whilst chatting aimlessly about God-knows-what. Eddie had assumed that Richie was the latter of his friends, but here he was, his dark curls wild and untamed.

He stood beside Eddie’s locker, arms criss-crossed loosely over his chest, hands on opposite elbows. There was an enormous smile on his face, so large and so genuine that his cheeks presumably ached. “Guess what I _just_ saw!”

Eddie looked over at him skeptically, holding his Spanish textbook against to his chest, “Will it be a waste of my time?”

Unconsciously, Richie ran his hand through his hair. “When has anything that I’ve ever said been a ‘waste of time’?”

Eddie merely raised his eyebrows. How daft could you be to believe that? On a scale of one to Richie Tozier, you’d have to be pretty high up there. Oooh, _burn_.

“Okay, alright… I understand,” Richie admitted, hands moving animatedly. “But trust me on this one; you’ll wanna hear it. So… guess what I saw.”

“What did you see?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“You have to _guess_!”

Eddie scowled, shoving the Spanish textbook back into his locker, “I hate it when people do that! What did you fucking _see_?”

“I can’t tell you until you guess something…” Richie was smiling almost mischievously now, his big, blue eyes alight with excitement and intrigue.

“Fine! I’ll guess!” Eddie took a moment to think of something (anything, really) before he asked, “Did Ben and Bev finally get their shit together?”

“Sadly, no…” Richie admitted, a somewhat-troubled crinkle in his eyebrows. It was gone as quick as it had come. “What I saw, though, is even _more_ exhilarating.”

“Nothing’s more exhilarating than Ben and Bev’s love. But, Jesus! You sure know how to build suspense! What did you see?” Eddie asked, interested. “And please, please, _please_ don’t tell me if it has anything to do with dicks and/or mothers.”

“Well… It has to do with dicks, but not what you’re thinking—”

“Then I don’t wanna hear it, Richie!” Eddie took his lunch out of his locker, then slammed it closed. The harsh sound of metal-on-metal reverberated through the vacant hallway, punctuating his exclamation of ‘Richie!’

“But it’s not the kind of dick you’re thinking about, Eddie! It’s the figurative kind… not the literal kind!”

“The figurative… dick?”

Eddie had started walking toward the cafeteria now, his sneakers thudding softly against the linoleum. Richie followed him, partially irritated that Eddie couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Yeah… _Bowers._ ” Richie said as if it made perfect sense.

“Bowers’ dick?” Eddie stared at him, shocked. “God, Richie! _Disgusting_! Just when I started to think—”  
  
“Not his actual dick! Him! _He’s_ the dick! I was trying to be witty, but I guess it didn’t work as well as I planned.”

“Oh, uh…. Then, you should tell me…”

“Well, I was outside smoking—”  
  
Eddie sighed disapprovingly. He couldn’t help it!

Richie noticed this instantly. “My smoking has nothing to do with the story except for _where_ and _why_ I was outside.” He paused for a second to put together his thoughts, then went on, “I was outside, leaning against the back of the school. I was where there are those three windows. There’s the window to the office, the nurse’s office, and the principal’s office. So, I was a little ways off to the side of the principal’s office, and right when I lit my cigarette I started freaking out when I realized how close I was to the principal because I felt like I was gonna get caught smoking, especially because the window was open. So, I put out my cigarette and started to walk away, but then I heard Bowers’ voice from inside of the principal’s office and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop, so I hid in the bushes and watched...”

The end of their free-period was signaled with the sound of the bell. Richie paused his retelling for several seconds before he continued:

“So the principal was absolutely going off on Bowers because he flooded the boys bathroom and then the principal said something about how ‘this is the last straw’ and ‘it simply adds to your already-long detention record’ and then… get this… he suspended Bowers! For five freaking days! A miracle! Then, the principal said that he would spend the five days that he was suspended doing COMMUNITY SERVICE! It was insanely hard to control my laughter then, but I did. Anyway, I kept imagining Bowers in one of those orange reflector vests along the side of the highway with a poker-stick-thing picking up trash. It was the best fucking thing _ever_! I mean, I’m telling you that—”

“What was ‘the best fucking thing ever’?” Stan asked as he came around Richie’s side, his canvas lunch bag in his hands. Bill came around Stan’s other side, face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His hair was also somewhat disheveled, several auburn strands having fallen the opposite way of their part. It almost looked like he had run his hands through it repeatedly, which was something he didn’t do very often in risk of messing it up.

Richie beamed at Stan toothily, “I’ll tell you next period at lunch. You’re gonna want to hear it. Was fucking amazing.”

Eddie furrowed, looking at Richie confusedly, “You’re not making _him_ guess? That’s totally unfair!”

“Forcing you to guess something was fun for me in the moment, but now, unfortunately, that moment is gone.”

“You’re the most batshit person I’ve ever met…” Eddie said, half-attentive, for he had accidentally locked eyes with an almost sickly-looking Bill.

“I think you’re forgetting about your mother, Eds. She’s _awfully_ batshit,” Richie remarked cooly. “I mean, do you remember that one Halloween when he found her—”

“Beep-beep, Trashmouth! You’re disgusting!” Stan swatted the back of Richie’s head, receiving only an ‘OW!’ before Richie complied with the previous request to stop talking.

“What’s wrong with Bill?” Eddie asked worriedly with an imploring look meant to draw the answer from Stan. Richie silently eyed Bill, sucking on his bottom lip.

Stan answered, albeit hesitantly, “Well… he had to present his Civics project. His stutter was unusually bad.”

Eddie only nodded, understanding. Recently, and for some unknown reason, Bill had had some moderate trouble with his stutter. Perhaps, it had do with his younger brother’s death, but that was almost two years ago. The death of his brother caused his stutter to worsen, but then, with time, it had become better, only now for him to backtrack. It was getting worse— even worse than before.

Suddenly, Richie set his hand softly on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie looked over at Richie, who was looking at him concernedly.  This somewhat confused Eddie. Shouldn’t Richie be trying to console Bill instead? But then, he realized it. His own cheeks were wet. Eddie had started to _cry_. He was so confused as to how this happened. Why had he been crying in the first place? Had he been crying for Bill? Was it for Georgie? Was it because of his math grade? Was it because he felt terribly bad for everything that Bill was going through? That was probably it. Bill was, of course, one of his best friends.

“Eds, are you—?”

“I’m fine, Richie. _Shut up_...” Eddie insisted. Not wanting any questions about his current state, he scrubbed the tears out of his eyes. Then, he turned to Richie, who was already looking at him confusedly, “Can we study math notes after school? I’m gonna ask Ms. Yoakam after lunch to see if I can retake the test.”

Richie blinked, surprised by this sudden switch in conversation, “Uh… yeah. We can’t do it at my house, though. Ma is hosting her book club meeting and she hates it when I come home early and disrupt it. I was only going to the comic book store after school until her meeting finished, anyway.”

“We can study at my house, if you want. Ma will be out with my crazy aunts, I think. Thank God, I don’t have to be there with _them_.” Eddie shivered at the mere thought.

“‘Sounds fine, but it would’ve been great if—”

“You _don’t_ wanna finish that sentence, Richie,” Eddie cut him off, sighing. “I know what’s coming. You’re starting to become insanely predictable with all your mom jokes.”

“You’re a _hoot_ , Spaghetti-Man..." dead-panned Richie, but his eyes, which were alight with playfulness, showed that he meant well.

* * *

Eddie didn’t have a car, not that he had ever so much as _expected_ one. His mother had always been insistent on him never owning one— never driving one. He had never been allowed to take classes in driving, so he had never gotten his license. However, Richie had. In fact, his parents had been rather insistent on him owning one himself, for they, like most parents, hated having to drive him around.

Richie had gotten his first car when he had turned sixteen. In truth, it was a real clunker. It was an old car, a red 1966 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser, and it could be commonly seen on the road laden with children. In other words, it was a car built to hold families. Eddie suspected that Richie’s parents had chosen that car for him in order to keep him safe, for the car was built for that purpose — to keep people safe, not to necessarily look cool.

It was totally, completely, insanely shocking and presumably out-of-character for someone like Richie Tozier, and his friends derided him for it constantly, though he never really corrected it, but Richie drove like an old lady. For some reason, whenever he was forced into the driver’s seat, his usual fast-paced, never-stop, can’t-quit attitude was… gone. He drove slowly and deliberately. Eddie did appreciate such heed for others on the road, but that didn’t necessarily stop him from picking on Richie about his slow driving. He had to remind Richie of the speed limit several times.

“You know, Rich... I think I just saw a little girl pass you on her tricycle.” Eddie looked over at Richie, smirking.  

“Shut it, Eddie…” Richie retorted, half-attentive, his focused gaze glued to the road ahead of him. “If I crash her, my parents will never, ever trust me again! They said that if I do— if I so much as get a speeding ticket— I’ll be severely punished. I don’t wanna find out what that punishment is. I’ve gotta be as careful as I can with her.”

“Richie, your car is absolute shit. It’ll be worth nothing if you crash it.”

“Don’t call Deborah ‘your car’ or I’ll make you walk…” Richie said sternly. His lips, however, were drawn into an easy-going smile, his nose crinkling ever-so-slightly. “She’s been nice to me and she deserves to be called by her real name.”

“Wow…” Eddie feigned genuine remorse, his words practically dripping potent sarcasm. “I’m _so_ sorry, Deborah. I shouldn’t have been so inconsiderate as to identify you as what you really are...” Unimpressed, tone deadpan, Eddie continued, “A car.”

Richie knew that Eddie’s half-assed plead for forgiveness was the best he could get, so he said nothing contradicting, per say. “Thank-you…” Richie said with finality, satisfied despite it all. He reached over blindly, his eyes never leaving the road, and turned the volume knob on the radio, filling the car with soft music.

After several minutes of listening to the radio, Richie pulled into Eddie’s thankfully-empty driveway. He parked Deborah in Mrs. K’s usual spot, then pulled his keys out of the ignition. He and Eddie unbuckled their seatbelts and stepped out of the car, slipping their arms through their backpack straps.

Eddie looked down at his watch. It read, 4:38PM. “God, Richie. If I had driven, we wouldn’t been here in half the time.” He shut the car door.

Richie shut his own door, locking it manually with his keys. “You can’t even drive, Eds…” He looked over the faded, red hood at Eddie, brows furrowed. “You’ve never driven before.”

“That’s exactly my point…” Eddie said, cocking his head to the side. After a moment, however, he added, “And I _have_ driven before. Mike let me drive his pick-up in the parking lot in front of the bowling alley.” Eddie remembered driving Mike’s car well, for it hadn’t been the best memory. Mike had been yelling at him the entire time, and Mike _never_ yells. Eddie had a habit of putting too much force on the accelerator and, in turn, going _way_ too fast. He was, in all honestly, a speed demon— the polar opposite of Richie.

Richie followed Eddie to the front door, slipping his car keys into his pocket. “And God bless Mike for doing that. He truly _is_ a saint for letting _you_ drive. I’d never let you drive sweet Deborah.”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie…” Eddie scowled as he took the spare house key out from underneath the welcome mat, which was, in all honesty, not the best place to hide it. I mean, _everyone_ knows to look underneath the welcome mat! Eddie unlocked the front door and went inside, toeing off his sneakers and putting them neatly on the rack. Richie did the same with his worn-out shoes, closing the door behind him. There was an obvious, gaping hole in his sock, his big toe sticking out of it almost comically. Richie noticed how Eddie looked down at it, so he wriggled his toes in an attempt to coax a laugh out of him. It worked. Eddie let out a soft, almost childish giggle as he padded into the kitchen. Richie smiled as he followed Eddie close behind, slipping his backpack off of his shoulder.

Eddie threw his backpack onto the kitchen table, then went over to the refrigerator and took out two bottle of water (spring water because his mom read somewhere it was better for you). He handed Richie a bottle before uncapping his own and taking a swig.

“Eugh!” Richie said, wrinkling his nose, looking down at the bottle of water in his hands like it could somehow hurt him. “Water’s disgusting! I mean, I can get my vitamins and daily intake of water from drinking soda. I mean, there’s water in soda, right? There’s water in a lot of stuff and if I can eat all that stuff, then I can totally get my daily water intake, so I can be healthy and live a long, fruitful life.”

Eddie brought the water bottle down from his lips, uncovering the alarmed look on his face. “I have no idea where you’re getting this information, but it’s disturbingly, _life-threateningly_ wrong. Like, seriously, Rich, you need to drink _actual_ water or you’re definitely gonna die, and that’s not even coming from the paranoid side of me.”

“ _Yeah, yeah,_ Eds. I don’t need a life lesson…” Richie grumbled, begrudgingly uncapping the water bottle and bringing it to his lips. “At least this isn’t milk…” He twisted the lid back on the water bottle and set it down on the kitchen table. In a botched impression of Mrs. K, Richie said, “You’re a fragile boy, Eddie. Drink your milk so you can become strong, Eddie. Soda is the devil’s juice, Eddie—”

This caused Eddie to burst out laughing so hard that he doubled over, clutching his sides. Richie watched Eddie reaction like he would ogle something precious, feeling unusually warm inside. Despite the weird, foreign feeling in the pit of his stomach, he found himself laughing along with him, cheeks flushed with mirth.

After almost a solid minute, the two were able to recompose themselves enough to control their laughter.

Eddie, in an attempt to revert back to the situation at hand, unzipped his backpack and took out his math textbook and notebook. “We can look over the notes and do some practice problems in my room.”

Richie saw his chance and took it, “Oh, sweet Eds, at _least_ buy me dinner first. I mean, this is all so sudden and—”

“Oh, please don’t start with that _crap_ , Richie.” Eddie shot him a look as he turned around, en route to his room. Richie slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried to keep pace with Eddie, scared of getting locked out or something. But then, he realized that Eddie _needed_ him to look over notes. Eddie had _asked_ him (sorta) to help him with his algebra. He figured that, if he wanted to stay in Eddie’s good graces, he would have to do his best to help Eddie understand certain aspects of math.

* * *

Richie had been looking over math notes with Eddie for almost two- _fucking_ -hours and was becoming restless. At the beginning of their study-session, Richie had been much more influential on the work that Eddie was doing, telling him about formulas and when to use them and what to do in certain situations, but, as time wore on, and as Eddie learned more about what he was doing, Richie had nothing to do except crack stupid-ass jokes, which Eddie kept snapping at him for. Every now and then, though, the joke would come through to Eddie and he would laugh, but he was usually awfully dead-set on perfectly understanding the math before him and shut out Richie’s voice.

Richie lay on his stomach, stretched across the foot Eddie’s bed, his legs idly bike-pedaling in the air. Eddie, however, sat at his desk, surrounded by numbers and equations. He wasn’t too far from Richie, so he could easily turn around and ask questions when need be. Richie had one of Eddie’s _Wonder Woman_ comics open in front of him, but he couldn’t seem to focus on what was happening in it. One thing happened right after the next and he was becoming increasingly confused.

“Rich, is this right?” Eddie asked his mentor, but received no answer. He turned around in his chair, seeing that, indeed, Richie was conscious. He was, however, staring off into space, completely out of it. Eddie, in an attempt to bring Richie back to reality, brought his notebook down swiftly on the bed beside Richie, causing him to jump and look over at Eddie confusedly.

“What was that?” he asked half-attentively.

“I asked you if this was right...” Eddie said slowly, holding up his notebook to where Richie could read it.

It took Richie a while to wake up his brain enough to where he could accurately analyze Eddie’s math problem. He managed to look through it, gaze flickering down the page, and find where Eddie had made a small mistake, messing up the entire rest of the problem. Richie took the notebook and pencil from Eddie, circling the one mistake that Eddie made. “You did the problem right, you just messed up the number here. It messed up the rest of the problem. It’s only a simple multiplying mistake.” He handed the notebook and the pencil back to Eddie, who, he could tell, was determined to fix his mistake. Eddie turned around and started scratching away at the problem, lips drawn into a thin line.

After about a minute, Eddie finished fixing the problem and turned around again, holding the notebook out for Richie to inspect. Eddie had, of course, gotten the problem correct. “It’s right, now. Good.”

Eddie let out a sigh of relief, “Good.”

“You don’t need to be so nervous. You’re really smart, Eds…” Richie smiled crookedly, head cocked to the side. His big, blue eyes flashed with something Eddie couldn’t quite decipher. “Believe me, I would know it.”

“You may not think that you did, but you really me today…” Eddie confessed as he took the notebook back. “So… thanks, Rich.” He closed both his textbook and his notebook, content with his progress for today. Ms. Yoakam had told him that he was allowed to retake the midterm, which was a total blessing. He would have to take the test again (the problems, of course, were different, but on the same topics) the following week.

“I knew that you had a soft spot for me, Eds!” Richie cried. “I just knew it! It was fate that this would ha—“

Eddie’s frantic voice cut though Richie’s dramatics as he demanded in a harsh whisper, “Richie, shut up! I think I hear my mom’s car!”

“Fuck!” Richie exclaimed, sliding off of Eddie’s bed and practically sprinting to the window. Eddie came up beside him, pushed back the curtains, and looked outside. Mrs. K had indeed pulled into the driveway. She was standing beside her car, which was parked directly beside Richie's.The two boys watched as she stared at Deborah. They could practically see the wheels turning inside his head as she put two and two together.

Eddie would have to explain why Richie was over. He would have to tell her about how Richie was helping him in math. He would have to tell her that Richie was helping him because he failed his midterm. He almost fainted then and there. Eddie pulled himself away from the window. He couldn’t look anymore. “I’m fucked, Rich. She’s gonna find out about my Algebra grade and I’m never gonna see the light of day.”

Richie tore his gaze away from the scene outside the window. His searching eyes fell on Eddie, who was suddenly several shades paler than he had been a minute ago. Richie put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder for the second time that day. His voice came out fast and rushed, but was still audible, “Maybe if you tell her that you’re retaking it. That you’re doing everything that you can to get a better grade this time.”

“She’ll be pissed that I got a bad grade in the first place! I told her that I was studying for this test when I was really on the phone with you…” Eddie couldn’t believe he was admitting this.

“Wait… _I’m_ part of the reason you failed?!” Richie pulled his hand away.

“I—Well—I—“

“EDDIE-BEAR? IS THAT TOZIER BOY HERE WITH YOU?” It sounded like Mrs. K was downstairs, and she didn't sound _happy_ that Richie was here.

“Fuck, Richie!” Eddie was becoming teary-eyed. The clock was ticking. “What do we do?!” He could hear her slowly ambling up the stairs.

Eddie could practically see the wheels and cogs turning in Richie’s head. Then, a light-bulb.

Richie sprinted across the room. He flopped back down onto Eddie’s bed in the same position he was before.“You’re helping me in AP Gov…” He said as he pulled his textbook out of his backpack and opened to a random page. “I got a 76% on the midterm and you’re helping me study.”

“Wait… you got a 76? Is this real?”

Mrs. K ambled down the hallway, closer now than ever. The clock was ticking.

“Uh…”

The doorknob turned.

“Yes! Now come here!” Eddie sat down next to Richie, crossed his legs, and pointed to something random on the page.

“Eddie-bear?” The boys were positioned like a renaissance painting.

Mrs. K was in the room, but for a little more believability, Eddie trailed off even after she was in earshot, “You see, the Judicial Branch doesn’t…” He looked up and met her narrowed, skeptical eyes, “Uh, hey, Ma.”

“What are you two doing?” She demanded sternly.

Richie was shocked into silence, which was an event that seldom occurred. Eddie to the lead, “I’m helping Richie with AP Gov. He didn’t do as well as he wanted on the last test, so I told him I’d help him.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you two studied in the library? With all of those book about the government?”

“We have everything we need right here, Mrs K…” Richie said suddenly, gesturing toward his AP Gov textbook. “The textbooks have gotten so much more in depth. I didn’t study for the last test, that’s why I didn’t do so well. Eddie has some good tools to help me remember stuff.” He knew that moms love it when someone compliments their child in front of them, so he hoped that it would flatter Mrs. K.

She was silent for several seconds before… “Well, I think it’s time Richie got along home. It’s almost seven. His mother must be wondering where he is.”

Richie knew that he should be internally celebrating because Mrs. K didn’t suspect anything off, but he wasn’t. He felt… disappointed because he had to leave. “My ma knows I’m here. Eddie and I only have one more chapter before we’re finished. Won’t you let us finish before I have to leave? It won’t take long.” Richie did his best to look innocent— all crooked smiles.

“All right, fine…” Mrs. K said after a moment. “Finish that chapter and head home.” She turned around and left, closing the door behind her.

Richie and Eddie listened as her footsteps receded and soon disappeared down the stairs.

Eddie lowered his head and whispered, almost inaudibly, to Richie, “You’re a really good liar, you know.” It was only then, with his head lowered, that he realized how close they were, both bent over the same textbook page. “‘Really good at coming up with shit on the spot.”

“It’s my specialty…” Richie smirked. “How else do you think I weaseled my way out of eleven detentions?” 

“Eleven detentions? Wow, you’re such a bad boy…” Eddie drawled, dead-pan.

Richie blinked a few times. _Why the flying-fuck did that turn him on_? He was so confused. He squashed the feeling. “That’s not the best compliment coming from your clean record, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.”  
  
“Shut up!” The moment was gone. Richie had said the wrong thing (surprise, surprise). “Now, do you actually want help with AP Gov?”

“I… Well…” Richie floundered. “I wouldn’t mind studying a few times.”

“You should know that I’m not amazing at it like you are at math, but I’m all right.”

“Better than nothing. Math for AP Gov. Tit for tat!”

“Gross. Please stop saying that.”  
  
“Saying what? Tit for tat?”

“STOP!”

“Tit for tat? Is that what you mean?” Richie was intentionally tormenting him, Eddie could tell simply from the look on his face. “Do you mean that? Tit for tat?”

“Beep-beep, Richie!” The words shut Richie up instantly.

Making sure to keep his voice down, Eddie continued, “My mom will hear us and make you leave!”

“So you don’t want me to leave?” Richie looked genuinely curious for several seconds before a smirk stretched across his face.

“No, I do _not_ want you to leave…” Eddie admitted, stubbornly crossing his arms. He wouldn’t elaborate.

“Well then, I won’t…” Richie said simply.

“Good…” Eddie nodded once, satisfied.

“Good…” Richie slipped his hand into Eddie’s, interlocking their fingers. Eddie didn’t pull away. He was smiling.

 


End file.
